Cindy came to vacation at the beach without her kids. I showed her a couple of restaurants the tourist never could have found. The seafood restaurant served only fresh fish and shrimp. It was every bit as good as the high priced spread. The place had no real decorations unless you count the cooking grease stains on the walls. There were a few cheap prints of the ocean, but they were so dirty they all looks as though they were shot at dusk.

The diner where I ate most of my meals was about a mile from the shop. It too was inside the unofficial town limits of the unofficial town of Monkey Junction. No you wouldn't find it on any map at least not since highway 17 bypassed the crossroads village fifty years before I got there.

The food ranged from a small daily special at every meal, to a plate of food so large that it came on a platter. You dared not order a side of french fries unless your insurance was paid up. On Fridays they did a huge business in take out orders for an item brand new to me, The item was called a collard sandwich.

The collards were cooked in real pork fat, then spread on a fried hoe cake, before the final hoe cake was added to the sandwich, thick bacon was placed on the collards. I would be willing to bet the owner of the place got a kickback from the cardiologist at the local hospital.

Cindy and I shared one of the sandwiches, washed down with large glasses of iced tea. We ate our collard sandwich with a fork. I had seen guys pick them up to eat, but I never was that courageous.

I almost kissed Cindy the night as we walked along the beach, but she moved away deftly. The attempt may be why, when I next heard from her, she was fifty miles up the road headed home. It didn't matter all that much, but she might have been a fun date in another place and time.

The tourist season ended labor day weekend, so during the dog days of August tourist were everywhere. They were trying to get in those last vacation days before the weather started to change and the kids went back to school.

The shop was almost full of completed bikes. I had more than enough going into the winter months, so I was pretty much out of things to occupy my time. The fishing was fun, but it didn't hold my interest. I was a hit or miss kind of fisherman. I might go three or four days in a row then not go for weeks. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I was bored to tears on the Wednesday after Cindy left.

I really hadn't been going out at nights for fear I might do something stupid and attract attention to myself. Since I hadn't really had a night in since my release from the prison camp, I decided to give it a try. It had been several months of drinking alone at home, so I wasn't sure exactly what to do.

I still wanted to be careful not to draw any attention to myself, so I dressed in cotton slacks and a nice clean shirt. I had decided to go to one of the upscale motel lounges on Wrightsville Island. I did everything possible to delay my arrival at the lounge.

I arrived at nine p.m. expecting to find every coupled up and having fun. What I found were about a dozen couples trying to talk over the music. Then there at least a dozen women sitting alone at tables for two.

"Hi," I said to the cute bartender. "I'm new around here."

"Good for you," the cute twenty something bartender replied. "Would you like a drink."

"A draft and some information would be nice." I replied.

"The draft I can do. The information maybe I can do."

"Good," I waited until she returned with the beer before I asked, "Why are there so many women sitting alone?"

"Wednesday night widows," she replied. When it was obvious I had no idea what she meant, she continued. "The motel runs a special. Bring your family down on Saturday, the check out of Friday night before midnight and only pay for five nights. Kids stay in the parents room free."

"Okay but how does that account for Wednesday night widows?"

"A lot of the men bring their families, then go back home to work after the weekend. They come back on Friday to take them home. Mom is stuck in a motel with the kids a week and dad is stuck home working. To keep the homicide rate down, we offer free baby sitting on Wednesday night and a free drink in the lounge."

"Ah, now I get it."

"Well it's a crap shoot, but a lot of guys do get it here on Wednesday night." she added with a smile.